


Courage, Dear Heart

by Charlie Rotanev (Immerghensi)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Almost getting raped, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ashton being fabulous, Awkward Sexual Situations, Calum's general assholery, Everyone's horrible sense of timing, Heart-to-heart moments in the shower, Luke being cute, M/M, Michael being a literal kitten, Michael cursing all over the place, Ok so there's actually a cutscene rape, Shapeshifting, Skinwalker, Were-Creatures, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immerghensi/pseuds/Charlie%20Rotanev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is a leopard. Calum is a knight. Luke is a prince. Ashton is a bird. Things don’t happen until they start happening too fast.<br/>Skinwalker Fantasy AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time Stands Still

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how long this will end up being, but at least I have an ending this time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I drew a version of leopard!Michael and here it is.  
> Apologies before hand for the crappy scrolling thing. I am a DA nOOb.
> 
> http://charlierotanev.deviantart.com/art/Michael-Maddox-532932271

_The wind whispers secrets to him as he bounds through the jungle, telling him they're close, they're close! Michael's ears are pressed close to his head, blocking out the fear; his tail flicks back and forth to keep his delicate balance. The scenery moves past him in a whirl of light and colors. He knows their beauty , their worth as something more than a plant or a food source.Those normal people don't know about it. They don't know about any of this- the value of the forests. That's why he has to escape. He has to, but the voices behind him are getting louder and stronger. It's not fair that they get horses._

_It's not fair that he can't shift back._

_It's just not fair._

_They're chasing him closer to the mountains. That's the only place he knows of that he doesn't have an advantage over besides the seashores. He doesn't try to look back because he knows that that is the fastest way to fall and get caught. One of the plants near him bursts in clumps of dust and_ Oh Gods, they're shooting at me _. His brain runs on autopilot for a minute.The adrenaline is starting to wear off and the choking fear is growing like a fungus in his throat. The end of his free days are here._

_Michael dashes under a large tree with intertwining roots and waits until the party has reached a dangerously close position to him close enough to slash at one of the horses. He buys himself another thirty seconds, and he’s grateful to be heading the other way._

_That is, until he hits the waterfall. The serenity of the oasis has quickly become his own personal horror; a place he cannot escape in time._

_But he has to try._

_Michael definitely can’t shift now; that would mean a certain and agonizing death. So instead, he pounces onto a log and tries to claw his way up the nearly-vertical face of the falls. The horses can swim, and he curses whoever originally thought that riding on horseback was a good idea. One of his claws pulls out a loose rock._

_Focus._

_They're at the base of the falls, and if Michael let's go then he will fall. It's a twenty foot drop, he suspects. The human hunters down below are whispering. He knows that something big is about to happen._

_He can feel it in his bones._

_Before he can go any further, there's a rough rope across his chest; a tug of war between his muscles and the humans._ Michael hold on _, but he can feel himself slipping._

_He loses the fight against fatigue, falling into the water backwards. They're quick to pull him out of the depths of the pool and tie him up. They don't have a cage yet, so they bind him hand and foot with cords. They throw a metal cage over his mouth. He sends them daggers with his eyes. The humans are rejoicing their find, and Michael feels sick. He can't vomit now because that would mean worse treatment than what he has now, which is pretty horrible as it is. He needs food and water and he just wants to go back to his den with the other were-beasts. This was not supposed to happen. This new life as a pet will be different and difficult._

_And oh, how life is cruel._

_**_

_He's been jostling around on the back of a horse for so long that his lungs feel displaced three inches to the left._ Everything hurts _. Says the little voice of innocence inside him, and he wants to cry. The tears are welling up in the corners of his non-glowing eyes. The voice inside him is calling his true name in voices long since past._

_Michael forces them to shut up. He screams back at them,_

You're better than this! You're stronger than this! You're fine!

_And the little voice whispers back to him in the familiar feel of the trees,_

No, you are not.

**

"Gods, how did you find this one?!" The market man alternates between fascination and horror, bringing his face close then wheeling back. Michael hisses at him, just because he can. "I've never seen anything like it!" 

 

"We saw him in the dark. This one's tail is pretty bright. took down one of my men and horses! Crazy little bugger, I tell you." 

 

"How much are you selling for?"

 

"How much are you willing to pay?"

 

Michael feels like he's going to throw up. They take the muzzle off of him, and he can't help but do so. Someone groans in disgust and another pushes his shuddering body away with a foot. They shove him into a small metal container and he feels claustrophobic. He reminds himself that this is just the transport part. They're going to cart him away to a foreign land. He swears to all his gods and goddesses that the next person who gets him will have at least one mangled limb from trying to fuck with him. And the person who ends up his owner.... Well, he'll think of something more creative for whoever that is.

 

Tons of people pass him without a second look. He can't tell if there are any mind readers who could expose him or shifters knocking at his telekinetic door. People come in to look at him, but quickly decide that  _a motherfucking leopard_ is not exactly the kind of thing parents want wandering around their houses. So until someone asks to see him outside of the crate, he's stuck. There's no amount of smarts that could get him out, no amount of physical strength. 

 

They will mark him as an item to be sold, and there will be nothing he can do about it. 

*

Michael's mouth has been roped shut for hours now. He feels the need to kill everyone around him in an overly bloody way. There was literally no space to move in the metal cage, so it's not like he could fight them off. They had something attached to the top corners, so the roof came down and nearly squashed him. He was forced into a corner, and then they took advantage of his disability. He feels violated. And the fact that they're going to sell him into the hands of some grubby normal person.... He turns around in his enclosure just so he doesn't have to look at the inquisitive eyes. A little kid pulls his tail from the far side of the cage. Michael snarls at him. The kid starts crying. Michael considers it a victory. Another faceless nobody stares at him and walks away. What simple beasts these people are. 

 

They gave him a couple of bones to munch on and a small bucket of water to lap at. Thank fuck... He was about to pass out from dehydration. Michael watches the people watch him, poking their fingers through the bars. He doesn't swat at them since the man running the stall would probably cut out his eye or declaw him if he misbehaved. He'll keep his fingernails, thank you very much. Another cart comes through to drop more animals off. This one has cages upon cages of birds; all calling in songs that no one but their fellow captives will hear. They sing in a tongue of mourning he is just coming to terms with. Michael makes the conscious effort to keep whatever is left in his digestive system there. This cruelty is surreal to him; an illusion. He would give anything to be clear from humans in his little den at the base of the tallest tree in the forest. A stray tear falls from his right eye and he realizes that all he wants is to be back where he belongs. 

**

There's a young man with a thin frame who pulls the tender to the side and whispers in his ear. The tender looks satisfied. Another deal has been made. They start walking over and Michael realizes the deal has been for him. The tender is going about podding the leopard, explaining what kind of animal he is and his special galaxy-colored coat. He's about ready to bite off a few fingers when another person holds the seller's hands, whispering a simple, "Don't poke him." Before Michael can make any noises of approval, they're gone. He barely has enough space in the cage as it is, and turning around is only possible if he shoves his back leg through the bars and twists his head to some God-awful degree. 

So he sits there and waits. 

 

The man come back for him in the evening. It's too late to be at market unless it's for drugs, so there are only a handful of stragglers around. Michael has a headache from not eating and his vision is suffering. The man who came before is all of a sudden in front of him, then gone again. 

 

"As agreed, good sirs?" the greedy man selling him says.

 

"Quite." Says the thin man buying him and  _something feels different_. He can practically smell it. Michael shifts uncomfortably in his cage. He can barely see what's going on; his eyes are alternating between seeing double and seeing clearly. He realizes with dismay and a crushing sadness that the coins have been traded and that he has been officially sold into pethood. "I appreciate your business." the Not-Man-Michael-Met-Before bows slightly to the other man, who just bows repeated and deeply. The seller puts a coil around his neck as a temporary collar. The cord they use is scratchy and coarse to the point where Michael wants to whine. But he can't, because _he's a fucking leopard_. The N.M.M.M.B. that is actually nice to him holds onto the end of the cord lightly. The ropes across his mouth hurt him as he tries his best to put on a snarling face as that asshole hands him over. They'e just about ready to leave when the guy holding onto the role calls out, 

"Cal! I got him! Let's go!" The other boy is looking at the collection of birds in another part of the tent. "The birds, Cal? Really?" 

 

"What? They're beautiful."

 

"Well we aren't getting one."

 

"What?! C'mon, Luke- you just got a fucking leopard."

 

"No."

 

"Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase?"

**

The stall owner decides to throw in a pastel creme and faded brown hawk just because the knight thinks it's pretty. Cal treats him like a jewel; an object, but Michael knows better. The glint in the bird's eye is brighter than any of the others he's seen, just like his glow with more fury than those of the other predators in the market. The other animal seems to notice it too. It-- _he_ \-- flaps off of Knight Hood's staff and onto Michael's shoulders.

 

_My name is Ashton Fletcher Half-the-Sky Irwin. I am a skinwalker. Who are you?_

 

Michael flares his eyes, accepting Ashton into his telekinetic home. It was like opining a door and letting the other shifter in. All shifters were telekinetic if given permission to communicate with another.

 

_My name is Michael Gordon Song-of-the-Mountain Clifford, and I come from the jungle, but was captured for my coat._

_How did they catch you? Surely you are faster than any of them._

_The cat cannot outrun the horse in distance. The cat cannot climb higher than the human can throw his net._

_My condolences. I was found in the desert. You see my worn feathers, do you not? They tricked me with food after a long stretch without water. Here I stand now._

_As do I._ Michael goes quiet. They're approaching a house now. OK, house is an understatement- it's a palace.  _What's going on._

 

_I cannot tell yet, and this human will not let me fly. But I can imagine the worst..._

It's the royal palace, home of King Andrew and Queen Elizabeth and their three princes. Michael is two claws away from shitting himself because _what the serious fuck_. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to not get caught in the first place, actually, but the revised plan was to get into some low security brothel and slip out as a human undetected. The doors open into another set of doors. Michael's heart drops as the first set closes behind him with a distant thud and the second set bind together so loudly that it reverberates off the walls and columns.

This is gonna be hell.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this first part!! If love to hear suggestions and feedback so if you got anything at all, break me up, Scotty!


	2. I Must Be Lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so if anyone enjoys writing smut for y'know.... fun... hit me up (and I'll probably be thankful forever)! I'm absolutely terrible at it and when I write it, it's more awkward than a narwhal trying to walk around on land.

Luke wakes him up unceremoniously to sneak out, and Michael wishes he could just bitchslap him across the face. They literally just got inside safely and now the guy is trying to get back out? Why the hell didn’t he just stay out? Michael’s shoulders hurt from everything and he reckons his ability to life has been damaged now. they go down what seems like four billion magic passageways before emerging under the crimson red sky. Knight Hood is waiting for them at the back gate and then they’re off to run around the estate like imbeciles. Ashton and Michael open up the telekinetic pathway and insult them the whole time.

**

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

 

“Of course, Cal.”

 

Knight Hood leaves with Ashton to go back to his home after another twenty minutes of asking Luke if he'll be OK sneaking back inside ("Dammit, Luke, you remember what happened last time!") And Luke reassuring him that it won't be a problem ("I'm not a baby, Calum, I can do it myself!"). Michael and Ashton bid each other good night.

 

 _It will be lonely without someone to talk to._ Ash thinks quietly to him.

_Know that you are not alone, and that we will see each other frequently based on the friendship that these two have._ Michael bows to the hawk and follows his human back to the palace.

**

It's lonely, walking in the dark, and Michael can hear Luke's breathing change. The birds of prey have gone to sleep but the hooting owls have come out to hunt. The scavengers have left their homes to forage, and the occasional rustle of leaves and the high pitched snap of fallen branches make him jump. The boy's nervous. _Poor kid.... He's probably terrified._

Michael moves ahead and checks for enemies, and Luke lets him lead. It's serene; no one to disturb them. He can hear Luke sigh with relief. Michael assumes he's doing something right.

 

It's beautiful in the garden. The trees aren't quite as tall as the one back home, and the star field isnt quite as magnificent, but it will do. Michael will probably spend all of his time out here since it looks the most like the forest. That is, if Luke will ever let him off the leash. The idiot keeps him within a four foot radius, never letting Michael pull him faster than his own steady pace. Michael thinks of his new 'owner' like a heart, steady as can be and strong at the same time.

 _Just like you._ The voice of innocence and kindness whispers. The thought makes him cringe.

 

 _I'm nothing like him. He's never been faced with hunters and poachers._ He growls a little, and Luke stops in his tracks. _Oops._ Michael nudges Luke along as an apology.

 

"Well, here we are." They come to a spire on the far side of the palace. It's probably fifty feet high built with dark stones the color of the mountains. There's no way he's going to fucking climb that.

 

"Come on." Luke pulls lightly twice. “Come on!”

 

 _Yeah, yeah, asshole. .._.and now he’s facing a giant boulder. Michael kind of wants to slap the guy for being an idiot in general, but Luke’s pulling him towards the rock. He digs in his heels and sits down as a slight “fuck you”. So Luke decides to try to pick him up.

 

 _Gods, what an idiot._ He snarls at Luke and refuses to move.

 

So Luke just ties the rope around his arm and runs full force at the rock. He disappears into the base of it, and the rope pulls taut until he’s moving and--

 

 _Oh, fuck me in the ass and call me a whore._ He thinks before getting sucked into the portal after Luke.

**

They plummet into the darkness and Michael can’t tell which way is up and which way is down until the last few second, when he hits something and it scrapes him left to right. He puts his front paws out and turns himself so he lands right side up. He hears Luke grunt and uses the minimal lighting to help pick him up.

 

“Thanks buddy.” Luke pats him on the head. The cavern is dark and damp like a cellar but large and cold like a tomb. There is a small yellow glow in the distance, and Michael starts walking towards it only to be sharply pulled back by the rope. “Nope, no!” Michael whines softly only to be told, “Now shhhh…”

 

Luke is crouched next to Michael, stroking down the line of blue-red spots running from his nose down his spine. Michael has to stop himself from purring because damn, that actually feels really great. He’s never really been petted before, so he soaks in the sensation. When the light migrates back around the bend past where they can see, and the gentle petting stops. Michael whines.

 

_Wait, what?_

 

He shakes his head and gets up, hoping that Luke didn’t just notice that. When he feels the rope tighten, he looks back to see Luke looking at him, puzzled.

Fuck, he definitely just noticed the exasperated and totally embarrassing noise he just made. He snorts to get Luke’s attention and the two continue down the tunnel. They walk for maybe a mile before getting to a set of rocks precariously stacked atop one another. Michael, being a fucking a leopard, jumps around until he’s at the top of the pile. Luke is still struggling, trying to move as quickly as he can while making minimal noise. Michael is trying to figure out how to get out when Luke slips and mutters, “Damn catacombs. I knew this was a bad idea.”

 

Michael has no words to convey his utter disappointment and growing annoyance. When they get above ground, he has to crawl through a fucking pantry to get into the kitchens. It takes another trip through the maze that Luke calls home before he plops down on the edge of bed and passes out from exhaustion.

**

The sweetness of sleep doesn’t last long enough for him.

 

The night sky begins to turn a deep scarlet and Michael knows that it is time to face his first day as a house pet. But at least he has free reign now. Luke undid the coil around his neck and the rope around his neck and mouth. He probably has burn marks across his nose and cheeks and another around his neck in his human form. He should probably check on his other self soon. There’s a thin golden band hung loosely around his neck like a collar. It rest at the base of his neck with a half inch space on either end so it doesn’t hurt him. He tried taking it off as soon as Luke put it on, but it expands and contracts depending on where it is on his neck. The damn thing is charmed, and there’s no getting out of it.

 

He’s trying to keep Luke at a distance since the guy is a fucking prince. After putting the band around Michael’s neck, he put a similar ringlet onto his own, which scared Michael into leaping into a corner and curling into a ball with his tail wrapped around him. Luke’s royalty, and if anything changes the balance between the dumb animal version of himself and the well-bred Luke, he could find himself out in the streets or dead without warning. This is some deep shit. When he sees Calum Hood walking with his hawk, Michael’s heart leaps back into his stomach because _fucking finally! Someone who understands!_ Ashton has a similar band marking him as a member of the Hood house. Michael apologies to Ash on behalf of humans everywhere for making him a pet. Ash responds by trying to look optimistic and saying the same empty words back.

 

 _They know us by our bands._ Michael thinks to himself. _It’s more like everyone knows that he’s property of the Hood house and I’m part of Hemmings house._ He grimaces at the thought of being someone else's property. Luke has no idea what he's in for considering Michael's skin 

 

Calum walks behind Luke like a dog on a leash while Michael walks off to the side on a literally leash. He notices that Calum is fiercely loyal, and Michael knows not to mess with his 'owner' while he's around. When they arrive at the chamber, Luke unhooks the chain from the metal band. Michael jumps away and circles the room. He trots back over to Luke, who reacts by being a scared little human. He realizes that this is actually the most active he’s been around Luke so far. Huh.

 

That, and Luke is actually a scared little witch. He has a forcefield made of wind blowing around him. No wonder he isn't terrified of Michael’s teeth and claws.

 

 _Fuck you and your wind powers._ The angry, spiteful skinwalker part of him says. He jumps up on the bed and plops down. Luke laughs a little, and there are dimples forming at the creases of his smile.

 

"Hey, now- don't hog the bed..." Michael picks his head up as though to say and what exactly are you going to do about it? "Actually..... What should I call you? I can't have you nameless forever..."

 

 _Uh, duh? Gods, this guy is really a fucking idiot. A royal fucking idiot._ His internal trigger happy battle mind sneers. Luke slowly reaches out to pet Michael. He rubs his ears and under his jaw. He somehow finds that magic spot on his neck and Michael purrs.

 

"How about Timber?" Michael looks at him like Prince Luke has four heads.

 

_Hell no!_

 

Michael let's out a sharp exhale. "No? Alright. Then what about.... Maddox?" Hm…. He could live with that. Michael bows his head and nuzzles into Luke's side.

 

 _What the hell. You're not a fucking housecat. You're a goddamn leopard_. Get your shit together. The inner angry trigger happy voice has become the inner raging voice.

 

But it just feels so right. So.... Safe.

 

He decides right then and there that he hates this feeling. If he gets any closer, he'll crave more, and that simply cannot happen.

 

Michael has to get away. Someone opens the door, and he decided that hey, this would be a good time to do the great get away. He gets under the bed and keeps in front and back legs close, tail curled around him.

 

"Harry! You scared me!" Michael can see a pair of feet from the door. They're bare but adorned with golden chains. "And you scared Maddox!"

 

"...Maddox?" Harry starts walking around. Michael inches back. He can feel the vibrations in his paw pads as Luke gets off the bed and kneels down.

 

"Yeah. I was walking around in town the other day under cover and Calum pulled me to this stall with animals. He got a sandy brown hawk and I got a leopard. His name is Maddox. "

 

"A _leopard_?!" Harry steps back. "Holy Gods and Goddesses, what the hell do you mean, you bought a leopard?!"

 

“What? He’s actually really smart. And he hasn’t tried to bite me yet.” Luke peeks under the bed and puts his hand out toward Michael and _his eyes are so fucking blue._

 

"Maddox, come on. Come one out, it's OK. Harry won't hurt you. Promise." Michael has never been one for trusting people. Luke is nice and all, but....

 

"I guess he's just shy." Luke gets up from looking under the bed. "So what brings you here?"

 

"Your father bids you do your studies. He requests that after, you travel to Lord Hood's estate."

 

"Thank you, Harry."

 

"Of course, my Prince." Luke gets up to walk under Harry's arm, which is propping the door open. Michael weighs his options.

 

On one hand, he wants to escape and get out and everything. But he's got this damn collar that prevents him from running away. He could just stay under the bed....

On the other hand, he likes being around Luke. He could handle just walking around. But then again...

 

_Ah, fuck it._

 

Michael darts out from under the bed backwards and rushes to his Prince's side.

 

"Oh shit! Didn't even hear him running!" Harry’s breathing is shaky. The messy-haired man has his hands up in a defensive position and his shoulders locked by his ears. Michael keeps his head high. "He's really smart. Wow! How'd you do it?"

 

"I don't know. I guess he's just charmed. I mean... Those markings can't be natural, right?" Luke shrugs. "But I'm glad. I thought I would have claw marks everywhere by now, but he's really a good guy, y'know?"

 

"You talk like he's a person."

 

"I think that pets are people. They're just quieter." Michael wants to give this man a cookie because damn, does it feel good to not be treated like some dumb animal. Instead, he shakes his head and then shakes the rest of his coat. He can totally do this housecat thing.

**

The tutor is less than happy to have a leopard walking around the study, but it's not like the old geezer can do anything about it. The witch-prince charms him so his claws and teeth cannot cut flesh. Luke turns him loose in the tower where the scholars live and Michael goes open season on them. He’s probably scared the piss out of ten humans today. That’s a new high score. Luke clips the leash chain onto Michael’s collar and apologizes for the fortieth time to the scholars.

 

 _Don’t fucking apologize to them! It’s their own damn fault for being such pansies!_ He scoffs. Luke looks at him with a mix of horror and confusion, and Michael goes back to being a big, dumb, animal.

 

The walk from the tower to the estate on the east side of the village is pleasant except for the number of times Prince Luke gets stopped in the street simply because he is royalty. They greet him with smiles but with frowns and harsh words for Michael. Luke has to explain that he wanted to not have something like a dog or a bird, and that a leopard is just fine with him, thanks. They look at him like he’s some sort of idiot, but they don’t say it.

 

 _Only I can say he’s an idiot._ Michael has a devilish grin on his face (or whatever the leopard equivalent to that is). The Hoods have a more puzzled look on their faces.

 

Like why the fuck is their Prince dragging along his fucking leopard. Seriously.

 

Luke lets him go around the house after he charms Michael again. He can't bite anyone now. He can't actually open his mouth, which is pretty annoying but whatever- he gets free range. He's on the top floor, the one with the most windows. Ash has to be around here somewhere… The hawk skinwalker embraced the sun the last time he saw Michael, praising the Goddess Hjalei, the one who rides the dragon made of fire across the God Mhakumba’s canvas of the sky. He passes a couple of rooms before a tuft of feather catches his eye.

 

Ashton is perched on a branch when Michael pads into the room. They both acknowledge one another, then sit by one of the giant windows.

 

_Is your house well?_

_I would hate to admit it, but I actually find it comfortable._

_I find mine comfortable as well, but shouldn’t we get back to where we belong?_

_I am a member of his house now, as you are his. We wear collars that we cannot remove._ Ashton looks at him and flares his eyes.

 

_We belong out there, where the humans can’t try to kill use for being able to change skins. We belong to the forest and the mountains, the lakes and skies. We are not welcome here._

 

Ashton considers this, then thinks back, _Speak to me as you would a true friend._ And shifts into his human skin. The feathers fall into a pile like dust settling over the plains. His skin is a sun kissed tan and his hair matches the color of his feathers. The first word that comes to Michael’s mind is golden, but that wouldn’t do him any justice. Ashton’s human skin is beautiful.

 

 _Beautiful and naked._ Michael tells his inner whatever that voice is to shove it where the sun don’t shine.

 

“Well?” Ash’s voice is a chirpy, happy tone. His voice reminds Michael of a rushing brook and the fact that now, since Ash has shown him his alternate skin, he’s obligated to show him his.

 

Michael closes his eyes and waits for the electric feeling in his stomach to radiate through his body. His paws feel weighed down and his mind is swimming. His tail goes first, and after that his bones start creaking back into place. The black and purple of his paws recedes into the blue and red spots. The pastel pink underbelly fur fades like a wave until all of the colors are layered on his head. His eyes are the last to change, the cat-eye slit rounding into a human iris. The paleness of his own human skin contrasts greatly with Ashton’s.

 

“It’s nice to see you.” Ashton says.

 

“And you.” Michael sits back down (still completely naked) and Ash scoots himself so that he’s back to back with the leopard boy.

 

“I thought your hair color has to match your coat color.”

 

“Well I’d be found out pretty easily if I had leopard spots across my head, wouldn’t I?”

 

“Yeah.” Ash laughs, and Michael finds it pretty adorable. “Yeah, I ‘spose you’re right.”

 

They sit there in silence, looking out the window at the town and the crowded streets of the village in the Nynx kingdom.

 

“So are we going to try to escape?” Michael says quietly.

 

“Is it even possible?” Ashton peels off of his friend’s back to look him dead in the eyes. As the cat’s herb-green eyes meet the bird’s intense woodland hazel, Michael freezes. This is everything he wanted yet didn’t want, all at the same time. He’s about to make a decision that could lead to either their glorious return to their respective paradises lost or their early graves at the hands of all the hateful normal humans. He knows what he has to do.

  
“I don’t know,” he swallows, “but we have to try.”


	3. Let It Live and Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really serious about that smut thing.  
> Also, the ending for this one is kind of weird since I couldn't really figure out how to end it and then segue into the next chapter.
> 
> PS-Michael does a lot of running in this chapter

Luke has to travel for a while for some god awful reason like arranged marriage and diplomacy or something. Michael is relieved that King Andrew refuses to let his son bring his pet leopard along. (The exact words were, “What the hell, Luke? That’s unprofessional and you know it!” “Aww, but dad-!” “YOU ARE NOT BRINGING A WILD ANIMAL WITH YOU, YOUNG MAN, AND THAT IS FINAL.”) Michael finally has a chance to explore without being called back or monitored by his human (which was code for 'run the hell away').

 

_Thank fuck. Now I can get down to business._

 

The first order of business, he supposes, is figuring out how to get out of the castle unseen. It feels like there are more guards crawling around than usual. The anthill is surging with an unknown energy and Michael must infiltrate it undetected. He takes one lap around the palace grounds in his leopard form to mentally map the guarding pattern and another lap just to be safe. He returns to one of the servant chambers (the bleach blonde who lived there nearly caught him, but Michael clawed up a tapestry without making too much noise) (the tapestry is probably ruined. Oops.) to steal commoner's clothes. He fashions the vest over the tunic to be his main shirt while the scratchy canvas folds over the black-purple ends of his hair. They're the one thing that makes him stand out like a sore thumb in a crowd. The goal here is to investigate without being caught, not get swarmed over.

 

Anyway.

 

He keeps his cat ears up since they're the best shot he has at sensing someone before they find him hunched behind a potted plant trying to get dressed.

That would be awkward.

There are soft tremors in the walls, all pulsating around him. Experience tells him that it's safe and his adventurous soul tells him to take flight from this place. Michael takes another look around and holds his breathe, pleading with his nerves to be still this time of any time. He puts the voices of doing being him and takes the next step. Mike's out the window in twenty seconds. He's in the courtyard in ten. He leaps over the outer gate like it’s nothing, and there are just rolling hills and beaten paths before him, waiting for him. There is no one around him, and he feels free like he used to. He can get out of here! He can make it home. It could take days... Months? Michael doesn't really care. He'll-

 

"WHAT THE FUCKTARD?!"

 

He's been pulled back by his neck and his feet are off the ground. Michael runs forward again and is pulled back again in turn.

 

"No.... NO!" He screams because _this cannot be happening THIS CANNOT BE FUCKING HAPPENING he is so fucking close to being out of here and back where he belongs and it's just not fair why isn't anything fair for him._

 

Michael spends another twenty minutes methodically checking for breaks in the forcefield. There are a handful of things he's noticed. One is that roaring at where he imagines the barrier to be is pointless. Another is that no matter the height, the magic barrier never fails to pull him back. No matter the height or the speed, actually. He can get across the barrier with his body but whenever the band is over halfway past the imaginary line, it starts pulling him. It’s absolutely infuriating. He storms back to the palace, ready to punch anyone that might piss him off. There’s a guard here, a chambermaid there, but no one to really deck at full force so he just sits on his brooding pot of anger.

**

There are more people here now than he’s seen before (which isn’t saying much since he’s only been here a handful of days. has it even been a week yet?), and it scares him. It scares him that he can’t just follow Luke around and have the metaphorical sea part for him. The biggest crowd he’s been a part of so far has been at the market (having to do with some pretty illegal activities, but that’s a story for another time). He’s dancing around them-literally. Trying to avoid all of them is like trying to run in a straight line at a festival. Michael keeps his head down and light on his feet, but he knows that it can’t last forever.

 

You have to get out of the sun. Get back inside. He thinks. You have to go back to the darkness. Michael take another look around. But not before you understand what you’re doing here.

 

Michael circles around the yard for maybe the billionth time in the last two hours. He’s not paying attention to his surroundings, because surely if he had had his cat ears up or his cat eyes in, he would’ve detected the spear-wielding man approaching him. The man clears his throat like the cocky son of a bitch he is, and Michael faces him with wide eyes and the hair on the back of his neck standing.

 

He stops in his tracks. He's mounted on his toes, ready to run, but there's no use. The man has seen him and will report him if he doesn’t come up with a reasonable lie in the next three seconds.

 

"I said, what the hell are you doing here?"

 

Michael flounders. "I was just.... Uh..... Bathroom...?" The man turns his weapon upside down and sticks the tip in the dirt.

 

"Don't go around like that, kid," he says, "other people might be more keen to attack you."

 

"I'll keep that in mind, sir." He bows slightly. Michael rocks back on his heels and points towards the woods.

 

"Oh! Of course. Return to the tournament when you are finished."

 

"Certainly." Michael waits until the man is gone to return to the woods to shift. He finds people lining up in an orderly fashion. They're all being put into brackets to fight.

 

_Tournament? Well fuck that. I ain’t going to fight for other people’s amusement._

 

When he returns in the normal people's clothes, he extrapolates that the tournament is being held in order to determine who, of all the people in the kingdom of Nynx, is the most fit for becoming Prince Lucas Robert Sails-in-the-Fog Hemmings.

 

Michael can’t help but hate him. That brat’s got magic in him and they still want him to have a bodyguard? Fuck that! They should learn how to be like the shifters, fending for themselves and capable of surviving for a goddamn moment without attendants waiting on them hand and foot. It makes him sick. So he runs. He doesn't want to handle the plethora of normals infesting the palace grounds. He curses Luke’s name and runs for the far gates (where he tries again to break through the barrier with no success), and seeing as he is still trapped he makes a flying leap to hide being some of the low bushes. There are people everywhere are they're only getting closer. 

 

_Look at that asshole. He has everything he could ever want and he still is given more. Gods, these normal people….. no wonder they haven’t returned to the woods…._

 

He growl softly, so the birds don’t give away his position. From his leaning-around-the-brush  position, he can make out a procession originating somewhere in town past the gate leading up to the palace. Something is wrong here- he just knows it. Mike gets out his leopard eyes and yup- it’s a parade heading straight for Queen Elizabeth and the other people in the castle. Michael decides right then and there he has to get back inside for a reason other than being a motherfucking leopard. He’ll die out here if he can’t get to the forest given the number of shifter-fearing citizens there are. The people are loud and probably drunk enough to collectively drown a whale. When the celebration passes him in the courtyard, he joins in. Nobody seems to notice.

**

He’s expecting to waltz into the palace with the rest of the people, but nope- he’s still locked outside in a sea of people who would love to just chop off his head mid shift and put it on a pike. That would be a reason in itself to parade around town like fucking imbeciles, which is exactly what they're doing now.

 

 _It was stupid of you to think getting back inside would be this easy._ The angry side of him says. Michael tells himself to stop thinking because what if there are telekinetics near him? That would mean one of three situations, all of which end with him in some horrible state. So he stays quiet and soothes his brain with songs that he learned as a child, before he knew what hunters did and why they did it. The rest of the normal people are rejoicing for some reason beyond Michael in a foreign tongue that sounds garbled and mangled. He sings to himself until the small voices in him tell him enough and the crowd of paraders start up their own singing and moving.

 

Actually, they’re moving just him. Which mean mean fucking noticed him

 

_Shit!_

 

Michael is slowly getting closer to the gates as people move around him like water and leave him at the front of the pack, exposed. He stands tall and strong, but he knows not what for. He watches the men behind the outside gates force the wooden pegs controlling the iron to turn for them. He can feel someone poking him at about waist-level towards the guards. Michael swallows and cautiously steps towards them. Seeing as the other members of the village are backing him, they let him pass without question. The second one set does this as well, and the third ones at the arena adjacent to the hemming’s palace slap their hands on his shoulders and drag him off to the holding cells. As they drag him through the two red circles in the middle of the arena to take him below the arena, he notices the board being rearranged. There are some dropped names and some added. He knows in his gut that he’s going to go up on that board despite his impromptu join up with the villagers.

 

When he gets below, Michael starts analyzing everyone. He can’t detect any shifters using his telekinetics. There are no rejection reverberations. Nothing. He looks for the strongest males and females in the cells and begins his battle planning. As much as he hates Prince Luke and as much as he hates the idea of being bought and sold at market like an object, he has to start working here. Becoming friends with Luke is the fastest way to get the collar of, and that’s Michael’s endgame.

 

 _So be it._ The hidden raging side of him laughs, _If it is a fight they want, then I shall give them what they want. I will provide the much needed Brutality to their peaceful, elegant lands. And just for them, I will throw in Regret._

**

“What’s your deal, huh?” says one young man. Michael (and everyone else waiting to fight) is in close quarters with people who are going to try to kill him, They’re all packed three or four to a cell depending on how big the cell is and how small the people are.  Consensus: it sucks.

 

"I have no deal. I’m not even supposed to be here.” He ruffles his own hair underneath the canvas hood.

 

“Yeah, yeah- that’s what everyone says.” The man slides closer to him. He leans closer to Michael and whispers, “But if you want, I could go against you and let you down easy.” It's loud enough that everyone else waiting nervously in the cells can hear him, but they all turn away and ignore the situation.

 

“I do not need your help.” Michael snarls. The guy doesn't seem to get the message, judging by how close he's getting.

 

“Come on, baby, just give me a little time.” He puts a hand on Michael's upper thigh and he's seeing 50 shades of red because _does this douche honestly think I would fuck him just to get out of fighting?_

 

Michael’s had it up to his ears. The hard shove would've been sufficient any other day, but today is not one of those days. He is so fucking pissed that he can’t help but crouch and jump around the man, leaping upwards in order to mount his shoulders and put his hands over the other man’s mouth. It’s just one of those things that had to happen.

 

“I do not need your help!” Michael pushes the man into the bars, and all of a sudden everyone who wasn’t ready to deal with this asshole’s words is staring at him. He jumps on the other man and wraps his legs around his neck. Using his abs, Michael goes for a backflip and lets go so the guy goes flying. His head makes a loud fwaaatsch sound as it hits the dirt floor. The other man in his cell is curled up in a ball in the opposite corner.

 

“What are you looking at?” Michael growls. The guy has probably just pissed himself. Everyone around him has moved out of arm’s reach.

 

_Good. Keep them all at bay. It’s not like they would’ve liked you anyway._

**

The preliminaries are nothing. He’s so much faster and more agile that all he has to do is make sure the opponent gets fewer than five solid, connecting punches in. It’s a punch to the gut, a knee to bring them down to fist-level, and one lightning fast hook. Before he knows it, people are dropping out left and right because they don’t want to fight him. He’s made it past the preliminaries before his third fight. When most other contenders for the top tier competition have to fight six to eight rounds, Michael has done it in three. The people who have come to view the spectacle love him, and he opens his arms as though embracing the goddess Yurma during a thunderstorm. He loves every aspect of the fights, and when they send him back up, he’s itching for more.

 

He feels pity for the first person in the rounds that actually matter because honestly, his anger towards everyone for sticking him in the gods-forsaken tournament league is like kerosene for his monstrous side. The fighter lasts for maybe two minutes before Michael all but rips his arm off. The man is wailing in pain and the crowd is quiet for a moment before transitioning to a full on celebratory cheer. He is the fan favorite, and he thinks it’s both hilarious and annoying. Michael is led back to the cells and is put in isolation.

This hatred is a new high and the little voice whispers that _he needs to stop._ But the addiction is more powerful than his own conscious and he obliterates the next human they put in his way. They don't even send out the medics.

 

When they send him out for the fifth time in total, the other man jumps on him before Michael can brace himself. He goes flying backwards, and the guy’s fist connects with his left cheek, right where one of the rope burns is.

 

 _He’s fighting scared. You have the upper hand._ Michael smiles like a maniac. The other fighter is probably a submission-oriented fellow. Based on how he’s got his hold on Michael’s torso, the next logical move is to go for the headlock. That’ll be perfect.

Michael is having a dandy time with this annoying ass douchenozzle. This bastard better move soon because this is looking really, REALLY awkward. They’re basically rolling around on the floor with Michael blocking punches and trying to get his legs around the other man’s. Michael is on his back with his legs open and the man is in between them, looming over him. They look like they’re having angry clothed hate sex, and that’s one of those things he would prefer to not have in his legacy. (He imagines some hot chick walking up like “Oh my Obyn, you’re that guy who had angry clothed hate sex in the tournament this year!”. It’s a horrible image.) (He then imagines slapping the girl across the face and telling her to piss off because he’s not above doing that. Michael feels marginally better with that fantasy.) The man makes his move, sloppily throwing his arm around to get around Michael’s head. The leopard boy strikes like a waiting pit viper, curling in on himself and exploding outward. He ducks under the outstretched arm and wraps himself around the guy’s side, simultaneously tightening his legs.

 

_Boa constrictor mode activated, bitch._

 

The man struggles to regain the upper hand, and Michael can feel the panic settle. The fool probably thought that such a young person like him, despite his show of strength in the cells below, wouldn’t be able to outperform a submissioner. That’s all they’re really doing, he supposes- performing. The man tries to wrap his arm around his neck to go back into headlock/ another position for the angry clothed hate sex memory. He holds on for dear life like that one time he caught a deer and it tried to buck him off. When there’s a break in the struggle, Michael tightens even further. He can feel the tension and the rock in his back is adding to his overall state of eternal pissed off-ness. There’s something else pressing into his right leg and oh. This battle has to fucking end NOW. There’s a confused feeling settling  He doesn't know why, but he feels the rage course through his body and it chooses to settle in his head and flood to his eyes. Michael cranes back his head to look at the royals in the box seat on the third level (the Queen and her middle son are looking all high and mighty up there, and it frustrates him). They are ambivalent about this. They want the best bodyguard for their youngest son, yet they don't want some maniac. Michael is the strongest one they’ve seen yet, and he’s not sure if he wants to go about this bodyguard bullshit. He knows he shouldn't make this any bloodier than it already is, but honestly- when has he ever given a damn about the rules?

 

_Fuck all of them._

 

The energy flows up into his head and changes him. Michael’s mouth stays closed as the fangs from his leopard form replace his normal canines. He sinks his teeth in deep, letting the blood pour down his bottom lip and stain his tunic. The man on top of him screams, but the sound of the crowd cheering him on drowns out the pain. The roles have been reversed, and the irony is stomach-twistingly sweet to him. Michael swings around so his mouth is still attached to the neck but the rest of him is of to the side. He looks the middle office in the eyes as he jerks his head, treating apart the man's throat. Medics scramble to get him off the ground and to the hospital. Michael stares at Queen Elizabeth, challenging her mentally. She motions to some of the guards down below to put that monster away, dammit. Michael can hear the brackets changing. He knows that the others have seen what he can do. They're all terrified of him.

_Watch them cower in fear! Watch them repent for all the wrongs they have done against you!_

 

The war-torn trigger-happy voice is at it again. Outside, the board is being redesigned specially for him; too many people have dropped out of the running, even those in other tiers. They don't want to be anywhere near him if he just about kills his opponents. He'd already made it to the quarters from that one display of brutality, and now he was in the semis from the wimp who just about rolled over when he found Michael to fast than his mace. There's only one more match and whoever wins that is going to have to fight him.

 

The feeling is like a drug, and Michael has no intentions of stopping.

**

The last man is a brave soul; he holds until the end of the six minute round. His left arm dangles lamely as it swings with each step. Michael has no qualms about breaking things that really shouldn't be as long as there’s someone to clean up his dirty work and is doesn't scar him horrifically for life. The medics cart him off on a horse as the mediator raises Michael's hand above his head signifying his win. His shirt is sticking to him from the blood and the sweat but the taste of victory is so addictive that he just doesn't care. Someone pulls him to the side, out of the line of the prying eyes, and immediately a team of people approach him and fall in step as he's guided away. 

 

"The queen bids you speak with her." Says the man with dark hair and olive skin. He's joined by the bleach blonde Michael stole clothes from earlier and another knight (Michael keeps his head down and prays that the guy doesn't notice). "And whatever the queen wants, we usually five her. Be courteous, dear, for you have been chosen for a reason."

Michael looks at them like they're complete idiots because that's what they are. He just came from a literal bloodbath where everyone learned what a ruthless animal he was and now he has to be a dress up doll to these three for the sake of a queen?

 

"I don't quite understand. What's Queen Elizabeth going to do?"

 

"She would not tell me." Says the tall, broad amber-haired knight. "But methinks she will explain your role and give incentive for you to protect Prince Lucas." They're stripping him and washing off the blood with cold rags. The shirt sticks to him, and he's thankful they can't see the faint leopard markings on his back.

 

"....is this mine...?" Asks the blonde. Michael's cheeks turn a shade of pink called 'can I just jump into a hole and pretend you never saw me?'.

 

"Niall!" Says the dark skinned boy with a look of horror. He punches the other boy hard in the shoulder. Niall looks back at Michael. 

 

"Sorry, have we met before?" Michael asks. He keeps his 'clueless kitten' look on for as long as possible. It feels like he's wearing him false face for ages before the dark skinned boy interjects with,

 

"Gosh, Niall, he literally _just_ came up from the village and killed a man! You're so insensitive." He turns back to the galaxy-haired boy and smiles. "Don't listen to him- he's not a warrior type. My name is Zayn and I'll be taking over for now. Drink this, slip this on, and don't be too cheeky when you talk to our lady. Oh! And bow! She loves it when people bow when they first meet her." Zayn shoves a bunch of stuff into his hands and starts trying to get the stuff out of the mess on top of his head. The doors to the box seating open with a creak. The queen is standing dead center with the crowd behind her. No one else can see him except for the second son, whose name was Jack Dove-in-the-Branches Hemmings.

 

"My champion! I beseech thee- tell me your name!" The woman held her arms out. Michael bowed deeply, but not deeply enough to let her see the outline of his leopard print through the light patches of his hair.

 

"My name is Michael Gordon Song-of-the-Mountain Clifford. I come from the lands of the west, from a nomad clan." He lies."It is an honor to present myself before you."

 

"An honorable fellow indeed. I am glad you will be here. I feel my son will be safe with you by his side."

 

"I assure you, my queen, that your youngest prince will not be harmed as long as I am near." The words fall like poison; his mouth a chalice of fool's gold.

 

"Praise the God Xansus! This pleases me greatly. Come- I will send for one of my servants to show you around. Oh, it will be so pleasant with a new face around!" She calls on Knight Payne to find the one called Ink-Spilled-Canvas, and Michael undergoes a rapid fire question session with the queen. He has a new history for this new Michael. The new Michael left his home to become a mercenary. He left because his parents gave him their blessing. He left the plains, not the forests.

 

"My lady- you summoned me?" A feather-haired boy slips through the door and keeps his head down, waiting for instructions.

 

"Louis! Yes, love- this is Michael. He will be Luke's personal guardian from now on. Could you take him down to the blacksmith's for a weapon? After that, give him a tour of the palace."

 

"Yes, my lady." Louis shuffles under the weight of the coin bag.

 

Michael is about to go with him, but turns and asks, "Where is the blacksmith, my lady?"

 

"In town, at the base of the hills."

 

Well fuck. Of course this has to fucking happen. Fuck serendipity.

 

"Apologies, but I have been charmed. I cannot leave this place." He points to the collar.

 

"Where did you get that?" She breaths. Michael has to come up with something pretty quick or else it's going to go to shit.

 

"I.... Uh.... Zayn Malik gave it to me in the change of clothing...?"

 

"Oh. Alright. Here-" she removes the magic with the snap of her fingers. "All ready. Be on your ways." And Michael let's out a shaky sigh as the doors close behind him.

**

"It's beautiful." Says Michael. The blacksmith has fashioned for him a lightweight piece of functional art in a little less than two hours (with the help of his charms). The carbon claw, the stout man says, is the strongest for its weight class. The ends are fashioned to be cutting edges while the plate on his palms ensure that they are a danger to others but not himself. There are layered flaps of metal extending up to his shoulder. Michael decides that it is the perfect weapon for him. Louis smiles, glad to be of help.

 

 _He's probably glad that you haven't eaten him yet._ His own voice snickers, and he has to keep himself from giggling.

 

They pay, and Michael is enthralled with the nature of his weapon. It feels so right. It feels like having his leopard claws out but he doesn't have the risk of angry pitchfork-wielding farmers chasing him out.

 

They return to the palace just after sunset. Michael held his breath as he passed through the barrier, but nothing happened. He didn't try the run-at-top-speed method again since Louis was maybe two feet in front of him. That would be the fastest way to lose a friend. That's not the goal here. Michael is given a tiny room next to Luke's. There's a tiny passage way (it's a fucking square hole in the wall. He has to do the one leg through and awing his head under move each time. It's a hewd bumping hazard. He can barely fit longways as it is.) which connects his room to the Prince's. His own chamber is cozy, but there's definitely enough room to live. It's no den, but it's a start.

**

It's been three days since Queen Liz ("Call me Liz, honey, it's OK. And to be honest, I think Queen Elizabeth is too staunch.") Michael has found a friend in Niall Horan, one of the groundskeepers, who he met in the kitchens. They both spend too much time in there, but the head cooks, Miss Edwards and Miss Calder, have accepted the fact that no matter the barriers they put up, nial will either sweet talk his way in or Michael will sneak in through a window and open the door from the inside. Zayn usually comes through on his rounds as watchman and aggressively whispers at them to go back to bed. Since Niall only has to do his job every once in a while and Michael doesn't really have a job yet, they spend a lot of time together. Harry, one of the resident slaves (which is why he wears no shoes, Michael realizes), keeps them all amused with his songs. The boy is like a caged bird who sings for the sake of singing. He sings the most in the presence of the messenger, Louis, and Niall snorted the first time Michael brought it up.

 

"It's that obvious, huh? We noticed it too- ever since Lord Grimshaw gave him to King Andrew. It's been...... Two years? Three years? Anyway, they both think they aren't good enough for the other. I can't begin to tell you how many times we've tried to get them together! It's maddening, really." The boy bites on the apple he's picked from above his head and proceeds to begin to tell him about the times they've tried to make 'Larry Stylinson' a thing. Michael is straddling one of the branches to Niall's left, overlooking the river. Down below, there's a rustle, a curse, and a mess of light brown windswept hair.

 

"The queen has summoned thee! Her husband and son have returned!" Louis gasps between great gulps of air. He's bent over at the waist, using all his energy to shout up at them. "You must come meet your master! Now!"

 

Michael is out of the tree in two leaps (he could've made it on one, but his hood probably would've flown off and the two humans would've known he wasn't one of them. He bounds up through the gardenside entrance and into the Great Hall.

 

"Michael! Perfect! Oh, you're just in time. Good work, Louis." She rubs him on the back before sending him off. Two doormen give quick tugs to the giant, vertical handles on the main doors before revealing enough space for both the king and his youngest son.

 

"Andrew!" Liz smiles. Her husband bows to his queen and kisses her. "Luke! We held the tournament. So sad you weren't here..." Michael has his hands behind his back and his carbon claw collapsed on his belt. His head is held up so his chin is perpendicular to the floor. He chances taking a look each time Luke looks away. The prince looks worn; like a weary traveler. His eyes are lined in rings of fatigue and his legs wobble with unsteadiness. Michael almost pities him.

 

Almost. 

 

"And Luke, this is Michael. He will be your guardian." Michael kneels because this is the motherfucking king he's in front of.

 

"Sir," he swallows, feeling the venom in his words poison himself. "I am here to serve you."

 

"Arise, dear fighter, and follow me to my quarters. We have much to do."

 

"As my lord commands." Michael keeps behind Luke, who has this grin on his face that can only mean trouble. They pass through the halls and go up to the Prince's chambers. Luke closes the doors with a burst of magic. Michael doesn't flinch.

 

"You're not like I expected. How did you win the tournament?"

 

Michael's rage is filling his head and he has to count to fourteen to stop his eyes from glowing. "Easily, sir." he says through his teeth. 

 

"Call me Luke. Only the tutors and mages call me 'sir'."

 

"Yes, Luke."

 

"Come on, now." Luke plops down cross-legged at the head of the bed. He pats the other side lightly, beckoning him to come, sit. Michael obeys because what the hell else can he do? "So, Michael- tell me about the arena. I was too young to see my brothers get their guardians. What was it like? How many rounds did you go?"

 

"You seem awfully cheerful to be discussing such matters."

 

"I crave knowledge. This is one thing I will train for nor will I see in my lifetime."

 

"I understand." Michael sighs. "I am of the orange house, but I acted like a member of the red. My loyalty to you is true, never doubt that, but my brutality is great. One of the opponents died. Another will never fight again. That is the price they paid for me to stand here."

 

"Are you sorry that you mutilated them so horribly?" Luke asks, and Michael is looking for a right answer in the witch-prince's eyes but _there is none_. He is not an animal, he promises to himself, but he's no regular guardian. He's been killing people all his life, and there's never been anything wrong about it before. But hearing his own thoughts reflected upon him?

 

"No." He says, and his voice waivers so he repeats himself. "No, I do not regret what I have done." Michael picks his head up and his mouth in a thin line.

 

"Good." Luke lays back on his goose-down pillows. _He must be mentally seven._ Michael frowns, but then scolds himself,  _Shut up and pay attention! You know the drill!_  "Do you ever have regrets?"

 

"Only when they benefit me."

 

Luke nods for a moment, silent, then picks up with, "Will you be loyal to me and me only?"

 

"Of course." Michael keeps a stone face.

 

"Would you kill for me?" Luke has rocked himself so his face is only a handful of inches away from his fighter's.

 

"Of course." Michael replies.

 

"Then that will be enough." Luke flops onto his back. Michael readjusts his

 

"If I may say, my prince, you are quite the strange character."

 

"I'm flattered." He smiles, and it's like a whole level of light is opening itself for Michael. Before he can reply, Luke rolls over and says, "Y'know, I thought you would be weird, but you're pretty ok. I like you."

 

He feels something new settle where the lightning lives, and he can't quite put his tongue on it. It's hopeful and wonderful and all the things he hasn't felt in years. It's terrifying. 

 

 _It's not yours._ The forgotten notes of hatred make themselves known in hissing whispers and stabs of fear. _You aren't allowed to have that. Look at him and look at you. You can't get too close. You remember last time._

 

Michael turns away as his eyes burn and shift to cat slits. "Excuse me, sir. But I will retire until I am needed." He doesn't wait for Luke to dismiss him- he wouldn't say no to him so early. 

 

He takes the long way around to his room and sits on his cot. How long can he possibly keep this up? This plan is bound to fail as soon as one of them reveals his true nature. Luke thinks of him as a friend now. _A fucking friend._

 

He lets the words fall in place and considers the damage he could be doing to himself. To both of them. Luke likes him, but Michael...

 

Michael doesn't know what to do about it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the ending isn't the best, but I'm fresh out of ideas and need to go back to my ThinkCap. Geronimo!!
> 
> And also, comments/advice on what to do next greatly appreciated!


	4. How Sweet the Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RAPE WARNING**  
> I felt horrible writing it even though I kind of skipped over the actual act of it.  
> Still- comments, suggestions... pretty much anything you wanna tell me, go ahead! I like getting feedback :3
> 
> Next chapter is going to redeem this one by being fluff city.

Bodyguarding isn’t as bad as he expected it to be, he supposes, but Luke is more rambunctious than he let's his parents know. As the third son, he is dedicated to learning. His older brothers were allowed to slack; the eldest was groomed for the kingship, the second for business and travel, but not him. Luke is expected to become the best of the best in the arts of magic and the scholarly practices. He's the golden boy, the gentleman scholar. He’s going to turn out perfect on the outside, just like everyone expects. Michael is essentially his only source of comfort. Him and Calum.

 

And Maddox, of course.

 

Day in and day out, he trails Luke wherever he goes, listening and watching like a shadow. He sees everything but remains unseen and hears everything when no one else can hear him. They go to the normal places, but then Luke take him on wild goose chases that end with some of nook that's just perfect for the little prince. They're both kind of out of breath, but what Luke shows him redeems the journey there a little. It's alright, overall. He's required to talk only when he has to, and they've found a comfortable silence. Whenever they go to the scholar's building, Michael waits outside and discreetly practices his own brand of shifter-based magic. He feels a swell of pride- his magic was a self taught kind. It's a tradition that marks him one of the Cold Claw tribespeople. He had no scholars, no pampering, yet Michael has made it this far and has some superior qualities to the little prince. Sunrise to sunset he follows his charge, and he can deal with that, but Luke is trying to find the pet leopard who used to follow him around, and he's getting suspicious. Michael told him some bullshit about leopard sleeping patterns and that "he's probably just tired ’cause you kept him up a long time and screwed with his sleeping patterns, y'know? It's normal. Cats sleep a lot." Michael sleeps a lot too, as Luke's noticed, so they've started calling each other 'broom boy' and 'kitten'. (Luke tried to show Michael how to fly on a broomstick since his tutor had just done it.) (Michael had to scale a thirty foot tree to bring him down.) (They both swore to never tell another soul about the encounter.) It's a normal occurrence-the bantering- between them. Michael still wants to strangle Luke.

 

Hopefully the gods will have mercy in him and send him back to where he belongs before it gets to that point.

 

The plan is simple- befriend Luke, get the collar off, run for the woods before anyone can find him. It’s easy and it shouldn’t take him any longer than one year if he plays the game right. The thought of being here for any long stretch of time is abstract- it was always a possibility, one of those things that he was told as a cub like a bedtime story.

 

_Eat your vegetables, or else the Petmakers will get you._

_Go to bed, or they’ll snatch you up and give you to a human._

“Are you ok?” Luke has his ‘I don’t want people to notice me’ cloak on. The castle is just about vacant due to the consistent understaffing (Michael kind of wants to strangle King Andrew too, but they would probably kill him in a worse way for that than if he killed this little twerp. That would drive his plan way off course so that's out of the question). They haven't even left yet and Prince Luke is trigger happy; practically bouncing off the walls. He’s looking Michael in the eyes with genuine concern.

 

_Or something close to it. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t know about your other skin._

 

“I’m alright. But you need to calm down.” He looks Luke up and down. The idiot has his fancy clothes on under his common clothes, and if a strong breeze comes by, it’ll all be over and Michael will have to bust his ass to make sure he gets out alright. The king and queen don’t give a damn about what happens out there as long as their baby comes home safe.

 

_I fucking hate my job._

 

“Hm? Ive done this a billion times” His eyes are wide and he looks like a cub.

 

“You’re too nervous. You’re gonna give us away. I'm surprise your sorry ass hasn't been dragged back here more often than not. Also, you’re dressed differently from anyone else. The wind sprites start going, you're finished. We have to turn around now, get to your chamber, change, then we can go.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I may not be well educated, but I know how to go by undetected. It’s my job.” He whispers. One of the maids look at them, and Luke pulls the hood a little further. “Now let’s go. The faster we find you regular clothes, the faster you get your freedom.”

**

“Stay still.” Michael is paws-deep in Luke’s updo whatever-the-hell-they-call-it. The royals have a stylist, apparently, and she put loads of plant jelly in to keep his hair looking like a mini-windswept pyramid. “Gods, is this one of the things a bodyguard usually does? I don’t remember training to break plant fibers in hair.”

 

“Well it would be suspicious if we brought up a bucket, so here we are.” Luke huffs in defeat.

 

“Just about there… ok- now let’s mess it up.”

 

“And just how do you suggest that-” Michael starts ruffling, much to Luke’s dismay, and throwing in some colors that he picked up around the palace. The blondie is a patchy burnt brown by the end of the hair-dying session. It doesn’t look natural at all, but underneath the hood, no one will question it. “Michael!! When the hell will this fade?!”

 

“We can take it out any time. Now let’s go to town.”

 

“How do you know about this? Do you dye your hair?" Michael nods once. "Can I see your hair?” Luke starts removing the hood (which Michael stole from Niall. He still has to repay him for that…), and there’s a split second when his eyes flash to glowing cat green. He pulls his own hood back.

 

“You may not.”

 

"Rude..." He mutters.

 

"Oh, well do excuse me- I meant 'you may not' sir."

 

“The sass.” Luke remarks, leaving back in a look of mock-horror.

 

“Sassmaster on blast, at your service.” Michael mock-bows, and he’s met with an airy laugh.

**

Considering Luke won't spend time in the daylight without Michael, he can probably get away with being Maddox only after sundown, when Michael is officially off duty. Yeah… that’s a good plan.

 

Probably.

 

Maybe.

 

_Fuck it, he's screwed._

 

"Michael, pay attention." Luke whispers as the balding middle aged man present a marble pillar to them. After their escapade, the king requested that they travel on his behalf into town to the south palace (which was occupied the the one, the only, the asshole, Simon Cowell) with a smirk and an unamused grimace. Michael stood in the throne room rigid until the king let them both go and booked it out of the palace. They're visiting the poor sap's home down at the bottom of the hill when a familiar voice thinks,

 

_YOU._

 

Michael looks around for the source of the voice. He checks the nearby corridors for a head full of sandy brown hair and glossy tan skin, but finds none. He squints his eyes against the sun from the open roof and looks for a hawk, but only sees sun stars. There's no one.

_Why are you in human form?!_

_Ash?! Where are you?_

_On your left!_

 

"Fancy meeting you here, mate!" It's the voice of Knight Hood. Michael is internally screaming. Luke's face lights up and Michael can sweat he sees more sun slots after looking away from the golden boy.

 

"Calum!" Luke lets Michael introduced himself as Calum introduces Ashton. There's an awkward moment when they have to shake hands and go through the 'nice to meet you's and the 'where are you from's and the 'how are you's. The tension is short-lived, and the two upper class boys step away to give their companions some time to socialize. Ashton and Michael turn their backs to talk with a little more discretion.

 

"What the hell?!" Ashton hisses at the same time Michael grumbles, "How can you in human form without him killing you?!"

 

"What? Hold on-" Ash looks back to make sure the humans are still preoccupied. "I had a friend there. Took me in to the historian's ward. I have free range as long as I don't get her in trouble and I use my abilities to help me do my job. What the hell happened to you, Mr. No-one-can-find-our-secret?"

 

"I tried to get out but there's a force field before I can even get to the village. They collared me and I can't get through the barrier. A bunch of humans came through and I joined in. Long story short, I beat out a bunch of people and was assigned to bodyguarding."

 

"They assigned you to Luke..." Ashton nods. "OK, so what now?"

 

"Hey guys! Let's go!" Luke pipes. They acknowledge them hi the the 'give us a minute, will you?' motion. Ashton's eyes flare and he turns on the telekinetic pathway.

 

They’re here.

 

Calum pulls Ashton along, and Michael glares. That's strike three. At this rate, he'll have to use both hands to count grievances by tomorrow. The hawk puts his hand up, signalling that _this is normal, so don’t attack him, please and thank you._

 

 _Michael! Focus! Stick to the plan!_ Thinks Ashton. _I can deal with this. Just work on getting us outta here, master planner._ Ashton moves with his master but keeps his eyes locked with the skinwalker.

 

 _We're going to get out of here one way or another. Together. These humans are fucking crazy._ Michael’s eyes are locked on the back of Luke’s head, imagining all the creative ways he could dispose of his human (if he didn't care about the consequences).

 

_Keep your gestures down! We can't have them know what we're doing!_

_I know, I know!_

"Ashton! Pay attention!" Urges Calum. Michael tells Ashton that if anything anything happens, Michael will be there as soon as he can and personally fuck Ash's master up. Ashton laughs and accepts Michael's offer. Luke looks at them like they're crazy, and they break eye contact.

 

The village bustles with life around them, but Michael and Luke are in their own headspace. The two follow their respective owners, smiling at each other with the secret they share.

**

Ashton grew up with Taylor back in the desert clan. She'd run off to go to university, leaving the rest of the clan to deal with the hunters. The Swift family were a particularly bloodthirsty group, and Taylor was their pride and joy. She could wield a mace better than any of her clan brothers, weasel her way out of almost any capture situation. Ashton had never tried to fight her, because he knew that her height and her strength compared to his bird speed and his stocky frame left him at a disadvantage, and in the heat, any unnecessary movement was ill advised. He was lucky that she worked under Lord Hood and that she liked him. She thought he was a cute little bird and vouched for him. Taylor fitted him with a collar and a promise that living under humans wasn’t really as bad as skinwalkers made it sound.

 

Then Ashton met Michael.

 

Maybe it was because they were under different color houses and because Michael had been placed in such a high security building. Maybe it was because he had become another moving part of the Hemming's extensive staff. Either way, his words were soaked in an overwhelming amount of disgust and hatred. It wasn't so much that he hated the people he was under as much as the system in place and the timeline laid out in front him like a treasure map. He couldn't stand having people tell him what to do and how. Ashton suspected there would be more plans and whatnot coming from the leopard.

 

For now, they could just spend their time doing their jobs and remaining inconspicuous. They could sense another skinwalker besides Taylor, Michael, and himself, and they needed to tread lightly. He was only a hawk and Taylor a fox. Mike could become a leopard, but if the new shifter was something big like a dreadnought horse or a lion or something really massive, he knew there would be no chance of winning. Calum couldn't know that two members (and possibly more?!) of his staff were skinwalkers. They would ruin the odds for others facing similar prejudices to have a normal life like the rest of the world. That was probably the biggest difference, Ashton concluded- all he wanted was a simple life without humans constantly hunting him for his feathers or as bounty. Michael wanted more he wanted to be a legacy of war and rebellion. He wanted chaos. He wanted more than life could provide him now, and sooner or later that would get him in trouble.

 

"Ashton, it's time to go home. We have to get ready for King Andrew and Lady Elizabeth's ball tonight. Say goodbye to the others." Calum commands, and Ashton leaves his owner's side to give each of his friends a hug. He holds onto Michael as long as he can in the crowded market square so he can whisper promises and agreements between them. He swears on his family and on his patron goddess that one day, they'll make it and when they do, they'll stick together.

 

Promise.

**

Luke decides to wake Michael up in what may or may not be the weirdest way he’s ever experienced. It’s not the usual lake-toss like in his tribe or the full speed tackle during his midday naps. No, Luke decides to wake him up by crawling into Michael’s cot as quietly as possible and curling up by his side. Of course, since Luke isn’t an animal, he can’t do it as well so Michael becomes conscious of the movement when the boy has his foot on the edge of the cot and his hands braced against the wall. Luke is taking extra care to not topple onto his guardian, and it’s endearing, really, but Mike can’t resist the urge to scream out,

 

“GRRAAAAAH!” As loud as he can without switching to his combined leopard-human chords. Luke easily loses balance, falling forward. Michael is keen to roll away as his prince falls face first into the plush blankets.

 

“You jerk!” the prince whispers, “I could’ve had a heart attack!”

 

“Well that’s your own damn fault.” He’s still in a cat-like position, still low to the ground but-

 

“Don’t curse- it’s not polite.”

 

“Who said I was polite?”

 

“Whatever- let’s go! I woke you up for a reason!”

 

“Are we exploring?” Michael rubs his eyes.“Nay, are you exploring and I following?” Luke has a grin slowly spanning his mouth, and he knows that there’s no way Michael can object. Not that he wanted to anyhow.“Fine- let’s get moving.” The prince does a sort of celebratory dance out the door.

 

Mike needs a new day job.

**

Luke knows how the shifts at the palace work, so while the day guards and the night guards switch places, he darts to one of the secret passages behind a portrait and jumps in. Michael clings to the wall, careful to not show Luke his extended claws.

 

"So where is this special place and why couldn't you have just sent a servant?"

 

"Not telling." He whispers. "Up here!" He , onto the third rung of the wooden ladder. Michael gracefully leaps to the fifth rung once the royal has gone ahead. He could've just as easily scaled the wooden boards along the tower face, but he might as well enjoy the journey upwards.

 

He gets off the ladder and goes into a handstand. Luke just shakes his head with a,

"What are you doing?"

 

"What I'm supposed to. And what are we doing here? It's too early for this.”

 

"Are you kidding me, we got here just in time! Look!”

 

Michael flips over and jumps up to the open side of the belfry, and what he sees makes the stab of yearning a deep gouge. It’s sunrise on Nynx over the hills, the yellow rays changing the gradient from night-purple to soft pastels of green and blue. When he closes his eyes, he can imagine looking up as a wonder-filled child, past the trees to the expanse of the sky. The green of the hills leading down to the village glow with an earthy green unlike his cat eyes. It’s beautiful here, and it’s probably the closest he’ll get to feeling his home’s beauty for a while. Michael is a little jealous of Ashton’s wings. The hawk probably takes this for granted, having seen life from a higher eye.

 

Michael tries to find words to express the sensation floating around his head like an imaginary halo.

 

 _You’ve missed this._ He realizes in a voice he hasn’t heard in a long time. _You’ve missed beauty._

 

“This one is particularly beautiful. I should go offer gifts to my patron god and his queen, the sun.” Luke says simply, and it seems so normal. Michael is basically petrified, staring as the sun starts coming up faster, reaching farther into the kingdom. The rays creep up the wall of the belfry slowly, then embrace him all at once. It’s cool and crisp in the morning dew but the sun’s new light warms him. Keeps him in its presence.

 

“I love it up here.”

 

Luke stops walking to the hatch. He instead joins his guard on the frame, looking outward as the clock tower bells ring and the sleepy villages rises to life. There’s a soft smile and a faded shine in the Prince’s eyes.

 

“Well… I suppose the winds can wait.”

**

When they finally come down, Louis comes running through, out of breath. He runs past them, then dives down

 

“Oh, thank the goddess I found you! Your mother wishes to speak to you before the party tonight!”

 

“Party?” Michael looks at Luke.

 

“Tonight?” Luke’s face goes pale.

 

“What are you two, deaf? Queen is calling? I don’t want to get thrown out a window? Let’s get moving!”

 

They practically race each other to the royal meeting room, where the thrones are. Louis throws the heavy doors open and the other two slip through before it closes. The messenger practically dives into place, his left hand on the ground, his right hand over his heart, and his left knee throbbing from the force.

 

“My Lady! I went as soon as you sent me but it took a while since I went through each floor passageway by passageway and not to mention I had to check all of the little nooks that Prince Luke could fit and and then doubled back to check all the ones Michael could fit in with him comfortably but I got them on the eighth floor near the Golden Room tower so here they are and ok I’m done now yeah I’ll stop talking.”

 

The queen motions for him to rise with a chuckle. “Thank you, Louis, you’ve done a wonderful job. Would you be a dear and tell my husband that he needs to check up on the kitchen? There were some strange, loud noises coming from there and I’m a little concerned.”

 

“Oh course, my Lady.” and the boy’s off again at a trot. All three of them watch the door close with a definite bump before Queen Liz begins.

 

“So-where were you?”

 

Michael looks at Luke, hoping the boy will speak for him this time.

 

“Nowhere. Just up in the tower.”

 

“Haven’t I told you it’s too high up there? What if you had fallen? Oh, nevermind that- we can talk about behaving like a prince after the dinner party.” Michael purses his lips and coughs nervously, which apparently is enough to give them away. The Queen’s eyes narrow in his direction, and his neck starts heating up like an internal furnace.

 

_Well what the hell._

 

“You did remember we were having all the lords and their immediate houses over tonight, right?”

 

Michael clears his throat and returns to his head-held-high position because no way is he going to get thrown under this bus.

 

“It might have….. slipped my mind?”

 

“Lucas!!”

 

“Sorry, mum, it just sort of happened…?”

 

“Oh, like how you just so happened to bring a leopard home after a night out with Lord Hood’s son? Don’t think I didn’t notice- I have ears on you, mister. Now go get ready- you’ve only got a couple of hours to look your best.”

 

Michael bows and follows his charge until the Queen chirps, “Not so fast- we need to have a little talk, Clifford.” Luke looks at him with an expression called “I’m so sorry” before briskly walking out the door. The leopard is at the mercy of his charge’s mother, and it’s more terrifying than that time Luke almost walked in on him shapeshifting.

 

“Of course, my Queen.” He says. The little bit of nervous energy in him shifts his teeth to fangs, and he bites on his tongue to keep from demanding what business she has with him. Queen Elizabeth steps out of the stained-glass light coming down directly on her throne and into the shade with the skinwalker. Her hands are firm on his shoulders as she asks,

 

“So how are you, dear? I hope Luke hasn’t been too much of a pain.”

 

Michael’s taken aback; the nervous shudder goes away but is replaced by surprise. “I-- yeah, he’s been great, my Queen. And Luke was safe up in the tower- he wasn’t about to take the tumble, you know?”

 

“Of course, honey.” and she’s back to ‘mum’ mode, which is unusual considering every shitty thing that had happened to him so far. “I'm just worried about him. I guess that's all how all mothers are, but he's my youngest, my baby. It would break my heart to see anything happen to him. He's got so much good ahead of him."

 

"He is a good scholar indeed. He is trying to teach me some things, did he tell you? Though I am not so well versed in tongues, I have picked up his music. He is talented, trust you that."

 

“I’m glad you feel as you do. That is all. Hurry now- I wouldn’t want to have Luke running late to the party.”

**

“This is stupid.” the skinwalker whispers in as discreet a voice he can without going full telekinetic.

 

“I know! And it happens more than once each year. This is the second, but my mom’s probably got a bunch more planned.” the witch faces a corner of the room to facepalm in peace. Michael finds it hilarious. None of the nobles take notice of him; he’s below them on the tiers, so they barely make eye contact with him. (Fuck them-they shouldn’t be watching him. They should really be watching their pockets.) (Those pompous idiots.)

 

“So I should expect to see these people in the near future?”

 

“You bet your carbon claw on it.”

 

Michael is by Luke’s side for the duration of the night, keeping an eye on him from the sidelines. He dances and socializes freely, but Luke knows that his guardian is on babysitting duty, and no matter where he goes or what he tries, he’ll spot Michael out of the corner of his eye. He may not see the leopard, but he knows he’s there.

 

It’s turning out to be a good night. Ashton basically flying tackled him the second he saw him (which didn’t give Michael enough time to tighten his abs completely, but hey-he’ll take what he can get). He’s met some pretty powerful guardians and pretty pretty ladies and it’s ok. He can get by on glimpses of battles and flashbacks of his real self fighting. Not forever, of course, but maybe for a while.

 

“Michael? Michael?” Luke calls from across the room. He can see the boy’s mouth moving and soft tones coming out until he calls again, “Mikey- I need your help.” and seriously, fuck that because he’s all the way across the damn room and he’s no teleporter. It takes weaving through tons of people and activating his extra cat reflexes to pop up in front of his human and-

“Who the hell are you?” He sneers at the dark haired man on his right.

 

“This is Lord Grimshaw, one of the allies to my father’s kingdom.”

 

“Great. What do you want, a celebratory cookie or something?”

 

“He wants some peace and quiet. I was hoping you could show him to a study?”

 

“Is that a question?” he raises an eyebrow.

 

“No.” Luke says, somewhat proud of himself.

 

“Do I have a choice?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Wonderful,” Michael’s bitter and this asshole Grimshaw knows it. His smirk is the equivalent of being slapped in the face after a suckerkick to the gonads. Luke is oblivious as always and has a smile plastered on. Ugh. Humans. “Let’s get this freakshow on the road, Grim!”

**

“Are we close?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

 

“Of course I do! My sense of direction is great. You could march me back to the woods and I’d been in your backyard like a lazy dog on a Sunday afternoon before you could even go to your picnics or whatever the hell you people do!”

 

Michael swing around a pillar and pulls open one of the heavy doors with more force than necessary.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Of course, sir. If you need anything…. I dunno, get someone else or holler.”

 

”Actually, there’s one more thing, could you help me with something?”

 

“Certainly.” Michael stands at attention, but he moves backwards as Lord Grimshaw lunges forward. “Woah! Hey! What was they for!”

 

Behind him, the door slams closed and _oh mother of suns and stars, this is bad_. He had expect something big from the man, but not like this. It wasn’t Michael’s job to interrogate other lords’ intentions, so he didn’t.

_This is what you get for being a good person._

_This is what you get for your obedience._

Michael whips his head around and before he can push Grimshaw away, they’re lip-on-lip and his brain shuts down. He gives a hard push away and ducks his head under where his face was being held.

 

“What is your problem?!” He snarls, spitting out once, twice. Michael’s rubbing his mouth like it’s some sort of stain that he can remove if he uses some water and tries hard enough. There’s an evil vibe emanating from the lord and dark magic surrounds him, attaching itself to his lightning core. He groans as his transformational energy leaves him.

 

“You’re beautiful, did you know that?” and they’re face to face. _It’s too close for comfort. Scatter._ There’s a searing pain in his arm and it goes numb with pins and needles. Michael growls and runs to the other side of the small room on all fours. Or threes, as it seems. “I’m surprised Lucas hasn’t marked you up by now. Such a pity… His loss, I suppose…” and his intentions are clear. Michael has to get away, or else this will be worse than just about anything he can think of.

 

“Why are you doing this?!” He stays low, careful not to let the man see his flickering eyes. There’s no way he can change now, even if he wanted to; he’s lost too much that his movements are too slow. Lord Grimshaw slams him into one of the desks and steals more of his core energy.

 

“Because I want you.”

 

He’s laying on the desk now, barely keeping his breathing steady. Lord Grimshaw is using his telekinetic darkness to pin the leopard’s hands above him and he’s used the same mouth-locking charm. His tunic makes a shrieking sound as it rips, mimicking the noise his mind wants to produce but can’t because he doesn’t have enough energy anymore. Hands creep up from his hips, past his chest, to his neck and Grimshaw breaths over the soft spot between his collar bones. His mouth trails downward, sucking in bruises in an irregular pattern. Michael has his eyes squeezed shut, the spots mocking his warrior history.

 

They don’t hurt, and that’s the worst part. In the dark aura, they blend in like faux leopard spots. His resilience snaps, and his lolls his head to the side, looking away from the lord.

 

Michael prays to the god of luck that someone will find him before it gets any worse.

 

Lord Grimshaw chooses that moment of silence and lack of active resistance to rut up against him. 

 

Michael curses the luck god’s name.

He doesn’t have enough strength to cry out as he’s bitten on the shoulder and once more on the stomach. Somewhere in the mix, he lost the rest of his clothes and the dark magician has himself securely between his thighs and oh gods make it stop. His eyes are still closed and maybe when he opens them he’ll realize this is all a dream and he’ll be back in leopard form in the prince’s room but the despair growing as Lord Grimshaw’s hands move over him stops the hope from sprouting and he’s going to have to suffer through it.

 

_You have survived before. You will again._

_You have survived before. You will again._

**

He sees his opportunity as Lord Grimshaw shudders above him. He feels so goddamn full, but he has to do it now. Michael maneuvers himself so he can easily free himself as soon as the hold loosens. The man loses control, and Michael capitalizes on it by wriggling free of the restraints and making a beeline down the hall before the lord can do anything about it. He can hear the disgruntled alarm as he slips through the door. There's a sufficiently bar-like object placed, for some reason or another, near the door, and Michael shoves it in the handles, barricading Grimshaw in. He props a chair up against the door handle just to be safe.

 

 _How do you like me now?_ He sneers. Michael takes the stairs three at a time using his leopard eyes as guides for precision. Above him, Lord Grimshaw screams in frustration, his prize now escaped.

 

He makes his best effort to walk in a straight line, but it feels like he's just spent hours riding a horse and there's a trail of sticky whiteness running down his leg. Before he can stop himself, Michael is on the ground and growing weaker still. Lord Grimshaw has an energy tie on him still, and he needs to get out of its range if he wants to get out of here alive.

 

_Come on, keep going!_

 

Michael makes it to the second floor before collapsing. He can feel Lord Grimshaw's tie to him grow stronger, siphoning energy to power his escape. The lord will be free in a matter of minutes and Michael will be immobilized on the ground like a tree's fallen fruit. The weight on his lower body grows until he's numb, and while he desperately wants someone to stop the trapped lord, part of him doesn't want anyone to find like this. He's supposed to be the strong one. But now he's on the floor with his clothes barely on, wheezing and fighting for a breath.

 

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. This was never part of the plan._

 

He can sense someone coming up to him, and prepares to be levitated again and sent flying into another room behind kick and key like an animal being kept in a temporary cell until Lord Grimshaw can take him home and this cannot happen. Not now, not ever. Michael forces himself onto his,dead feet using the bannister, supporting himself by leaning over the rail. He can barely see now, and he feels nauseous looking down at the people below.

 

"Michael!" Luke says, "I've been looking for you everywhere! Come, let-" From behind, he can hear a chatter, a shuffling of feet. "Michael? Michael?! Oh my gods, what the hell happened to you?" Luke braces his shoulders, letting his guardian down easy on the ground. There are only a few people around him now, but judging by the clamor below, everyone will be around him in a matter of minutes.

 

"It was... Lord Grimshaw.... He attacked me."

 

"Where did he go?"

 

"Trapped 'im on the fourth floor. West study. Barricaded in. But he's a got an energy tie on me."

 

Luke immediately makes a break for the fourth floor (followed by an entourage of attendants). There's a stampede on the double wide staircase, and Michael is alone.

 

"Mikey? Babe, are you OK?" Ashton whispers.

 

 _I don't know._ He admits, and it hurts him more than what Lord Grimshaw has done.

 

_Sit up. I'll help you._

_What do I do? Luke can’t find out about this…_

_Let me help you._  He repeats, but the door is open and all the thoughts are flying through. Ash can’t perceive all of them, but it’s bad.

 

 _I’m supposed to be strong_ is one.

 _It was never supposed to be like this_ is another.

Ashton rests his head atop his friend's. He had one hand over and one hand under his hood, petting his wild mane of galaxy hair. The other boy’s breath is shaky already, so there’s no point in pushing him any further now. He’ll talk once he’s recovered. That’s how it’s always worked. Every time Michael tries to choke down a sob, Ashton is there to hold onto him and think to him _Shhhhhh, hon, it’s ok. Just let it out._ The clamor of the party is returning, and it’s overwhelming, so Ashton thinks to him _Stem your tears. You’ll be alright_. before Luke pulls him out of his lap.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when the next part is going up. I have to do a gift project for someone. Ciao for now :3


End file.
